


Stop All The Clocks

by sevenall



Series: Mercy Street [12]
Category: Bleach
Genre: Futurefic AU, Mercy Street AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-22
Updated: 2016-04-22
Packaged: 2018-06-03 19:21:23
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 962
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6623086
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sevenall/pseuds/sevenall
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Nanao and Shunsui tried to keep the bookshop, after.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Stop All The Clocks

Nanao and Shunsui tried to keep the bookstore, afterwards, but it was no use. Shunsui has the business sense you might expect, compounded by grief and booze, and there was not enough hours in the day for Nanao to take care of Hanaya, Shunsui and the bookstore. None of the remaining Ukitake siblings wanted it, they all had their own lives, so Nanao arranged for it to be sold and the next time she walked past, there was a nail salon and a frozen yogurt parlour there instead. Though alcoholic excess was usually Shunsui's forte, she went straight home and though it was only two in the afternoon, polished off a bottle of tequila, then threw up for hours.

They found out that things left behind were worse than useless. One black garbage bag after the other, Jyuushirou faded from their life. His medications went back to the pharmacy. His clothes to goodwill. Shunsui wanted to throw it all out, but Nanao secretly saved a few scarves and she didn't cry in them more than once or maybe twice. In November, they found the Christmas presents Jyuushirou had stashed away behind a bookshelf. This time, it was Nanao who wanted to throw them away unopened and Shunsui who unwrapped them; Dickinson for her, Rilke for him, a bracelet of glass beads and a key chain, the kind you can whistle for. Nanao said she needed a key ring, so Shunsui hung the beads from his rear view mirror in the secret hope that they'd distract him while driving and he'd crash.

They kept in touch with the kids. One late night at Nanao's apartment, Hiro said, with feigned diffidence that if she and…well, nobody would take offense, you know? Because it's been some time and you're both…and all of us l-love…anyway, if you ever. At that, Nanao looked at Shunsui and Shunsui looked at Nanao and both of them smiled, then said, sure, because they didn't want to hurt Hiro's feelings. But contrary to common belief, the didn't sleep together, hadn't ever slept together and the reason for that wasn't Jyuushirou, not exactly. The thing was, neither of them wanted to settle for less than the real thing. Shunsui had found his and had it for more than twenty years and couldn't really lose it, even now. And Nanao was still looking for hers.

In the meantime, there was work and other things to distract them and keep them busy. Shunsui had to take two trips to Cedar Bridge, an upscale detox facility in the middle of nowhere, to get off the booze, but ironically, it was Nanao who had to be rushed to hospital for a perforated ulcer. Shunsui came to her bedside straight from an AA meeting, full of zen and righteousness, and they screamed at each other until a nurse reminded them there were sick people there.

She got better. She got back to work, though she delegated more and took Mondays off. Shunsui took down the beads and stayed on the wagon. They exchanged books, Rilke for Dickinson, but Jyuushirou had been pegged them right, they both preferred their own gift. The battery in the key chain ran out and Nanao spent most of a Wednesday morning whistling, before breaking down in tears. When she found it, she kept it, no matter that it was so big and clumsy it took up half her purse.

They talked about Jyuushirou, sometimes, but less often than they had expected to. Do you remember, one of them would say, when we did, he did, he said and then I said. But most memories and stories belonged to Shunsui alone and Nanao could only listen, not share. Neither of them ever read Kubler-Ross, though friends and acquaintances sent them at least a dozen copies, thinking they seemed to be forever stuck in the bargaining phase. Nanao would have liked to tell them where they could shove their generic advice, but Shunsui told her: good, you're angry! see, it's working already and you haven't even read it!

Another book presented to Shunsui described how to make a memorial quilt. Nanao thought it was a nice idea, only sewing wasn't her. Due to Ukitake family's history with the Hollows, Jyuushirou had avoided cameras and documentation in general, so no scrap book either. Shunsui balked at the thought and yelled at her before storming out. She heard later that he had spent the evening playing experimental jazz and almost gotten fired from his gig.

She tried to write down her memories and found that if she was a lousy seamstress, she was an even worse writer. July 20th 2001, she'd begin. We went to the beach. Shunsui drove. I had a banana split on the boardwalk. Jyuushirou had green tea and pickled plums. Shunsui had a beer and Jyuushirou drove us home.

The day did come, at last, when she greeted Shunsui at the door and didn't look for Jyuushirou behind him. Another day, when she saw a shock of white hair disappear around a corner in the grocery store and didn't feel a pang. Yet another, when she had her nails done again and got a frozen yogurt afterwards.

And sometime after that, around the time Shunsui had asked her to come over and meet this someone, amazing bass player, met him at the club, nothing serious of course, she realised that while Jyuushirou and the bookstore weren't around anymore, she knew where they had gone. While she and Shunsui had been trying to rebuild their lives, the store had also been rebuilt in her head, worn armchairs, rickety shelves crammed with books and all. She didn't see Jyuushirou yet, but she knew he was in there somewhere, reading.

THE END


End file.
